Luke Reese is many things but, to us, he is a golf writer. His book One For The Memory Banks, was reviewed by this writer on GolfWRX.Com. If it doesn’t win awards, I’m a monkey’s uncle’s caddie. Luke is currently engaged in a series of vignettes, and we are privileged to bring them to you. His first, titled Hunter, focused on Kiawah Island and the 2021 PGA Championship. The second, in anticipation of the Memorial Tournament near Columbus, recalled a four-player match of great interest. This is the third in the series-enjoy!
July of 2017. Jordan Spieth had just willed his way to the claret jug at Royal Birkdale. His driving was suspect. He made the most of a practice range ruling. Little did we know that would be his last great moment for a while. A long while.
My mom watched. Impatiently. Every weekend. Thursday through Sunday. Didn’t miss a day. Three and a half years. About 120 weeks of golf…with a miserable pause in 2020. Somewhere around 480 days of being glued to the tv. And I mean glued to the tv. Waiting for Jordan to return. He smiled. He spoke honestly. He didn’t hide. But he wasn’t young Jordan. He was just becoming a really good guy. Not a really good champion.
My mom is not your average golf fan. She is not your average anything. Strong willed. Sharp witted. Her strong commanding voice lets you know exactly what she thinks.
She grew up during the Depression in small town Ohio. Her early years were marked by incessant dog barking. Her mom supported the family as an assistant to the local vet. He let the family live near the kennel. She knows hardship and deprivation. She knows how to go to a happy place.
She doesn’t watch the golf. She devours it the way Henry the VIII ate his meals. She suffers when her favorites miss putts. If the wrong player is too far ahead, she switches to the Hallmark channel. Seen every movie multiple times. Always a nice ending. Better than watching the wrong guy win.
Back to Jordan Spieth. He is her favorite. Bar none. Sometimes I wonder what would happen if she had to vote one person off the island. Jordan or her son? He didn’t total her car when he was seventeen. He didn’t get a C in Algebra. He always says, “yes, ma’am.” I bet he clears the table AND does the dishes. Not sure I like my chances.
Now, back to those arduous 480 days of waiting. Impatiently. Hoping, against hope, that Jordan, whose smile and charming demeanor never deserted him, would recapture his old form.
It finally happened. Today. Eleven one putts. Valero Texas Open champion. Jordan and mom are winners again. Special day for Jordan. Even more so for mom. She was born on this day in 1931. Happy 90th birthday, mom.
Mom is now the odds on favorite in our family Masters pool.